


It’s friday, I’m in love

by Casia_sage



Series: 12 Days of Christmas [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, Alcohol, Awkward Crush, Blindness, Christmas, Christmas Dinner, Christmas Eve, Coffee Shops, College, Drunkenness, First Kiss, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, M/M, Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson at Columbia, POV Alternating, Pre-Canon, Songfic, The Cure, it’s just Matt’s dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-16 13:45:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13055187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casia_sage/pseuds/Casia_sage
Summary: 12 Days of Christmas Day 1Foggy Nelson is less worried about his hopeless, ridiculous crush on his roommate, and more worried about getting him to eat Christmas dinner with him.





	It’s friday, I’m in love

“Okay, so I _may_ have gone a little bit extra with the food,” Foggy says, shoveling a ridiculous amount of mashed potatoes in to a bowl. 

Matt smiles and feels around for the chair. “You _may_ have? Really?” He feels the top of the dark, wooden chair and carefully sits down in it. 

Foggy puts the bowl on the table, which Matt is currently seated at, and sits down across from him. “Well, now you’ll have to help me eat it.”

“I think if we eat all of this food,” Matt says, lifting his hand up from the braille book on the table “we’ll actually die.”

“Okay...maybe not all of it.” Foggy sighs and lights the cinnamon-apple candle in the center of the table, which leaves a chemical smell and burning sensation in Matt’s nose. “The point, buddy, is that you should stop studying for one second and eat Christmas dinner with me.” 

Matt doesn’t look up from the book, which his hand moves back to. Of course Foggy’s aware that Matt doesn’t need to look up at him. Ya know, blindness and all. But Matt is usually polite enough that he does, anyway. Usually. “It’s not Christmas.”

Foggy rolls his eyes and pulls the book away, absentmindedly tossing it onto Matt’s bed. “It’s Christmas Eve. And I think you can stop studying for a couple hours to eat dinner with me on Christmas Eve, Murdock,” he drawls, putting food on his plate. 

Matt, exasperated by Foggy’s thievery, with a smile, says, “Okay, Okay.”

Foggy sets his plate down on the table. 

“Pass me your plate?” He asks. 

Matt feels around for the plate for a second and Foggy looks up, giving him a sympathetic look that he knows Matt can’t see. “Sorry. I’ll get it,” He stammers, grabbing Matt’s plate for him. 

Matt fidgets self consciously in his chair. “I could’ve gotten it, Foggy.”

Foggy frowns and nods. “I know.” 

Matt can hear Foggy stand up and walk over to the mini fridge. He opens it and grabs something that smells stale and like aluminum. “I’ve got beer,” Foggy says, as if the offer of beer will put Matt in a better mood, and Matt sorely admits to himself that it does. He can hear Foggy shuffle over to the table, sit down, and scoot an aluminum can across the table. Matt grabs it and pops it open. Reaching across the small table, Foggy places the other paper plate in front of the smaller man. 

Matt smiles at him, and Foggy can feel his face heat up. He’s also 99% sure that the sudden redness of his face is totally obvious. Not that it matters, anyway, because Matt’s blind. So why is he freaking out? The only eyewitness to this display of Foggy’s ridiculous crush on Matthew Michael Murdock is God. And Foggy was never that close to the guy, honestly. 

Matt takes a drink of the beer, while Foggy takes a bite of mashed potatoes, taking full advantage of his roommate’s blindness, and stares at his unfairly attractive face. 

“Thanks for dinner, Foggy,” he says. “I really appreciate it, buddy.”

Foggy smiles back, remembering him explaining to his mother that he’s pretty sure that his new roommate doesn’t have anyone to spend Christmas with and that he wants to stay with him over break, instead of going home, and he doesn’t regret it.

An hour and four beers later, Matt is sat in front of the fireplace, warming his hands, in an on-campus coffee shop that Foggy had taken them to, in hopes of sobering up Matt, so he wouldn’t have a hangover on Christmas. Foggy alway knew that skinny guys can’t hold their alcohol, so he really shouldn’t have let Matt drink so much. He has to admit, Matt’s a funny drunk. But, after a while, Matt got kind of like a tired, spacey toddler.

Foggy walks over to the fireplace and sits down next to Matt, holding his coffee and Matt’s cocoa (which was adorable, by the way. Matt Murdock wanted hot cocoa instead of coffee). 

Foggy softly says, “here,” and holds the cup out to Matt. 

Matt takes it, wrapping his hands around Foggy’s, whose hands are currently curled around Matt’s cup. Matt holds them there for a few minutes. Foggy might actually die. Matt’s hands are soft and thin and a little bigger than his. After what feels like ages, the taller man takes his hands away, his long, cold fingers still around the cup. 

“Thanks,” he says, still slurring just slightly. 

Foggy smiles fondly at him and leans closer to the fire. “Yeah. Don’t mention it. I expect you’ll pay me back, though, Murdock,” he says jokingly. 

“No…” He raises the cocoa to his lips and leaves the edge of the lid resting against his bottom lip. “For everything. All of this. The dinner. Having Christmas with me.”

Foggy can’t help the sad look on his face from appearing. He silently wonders why someone wouldn’t want to spend Christmas with Matt. 

Matt’s facing the fire; the flame’s orange light highlighting the contours of his face and reflecting in his whiskey eyes. Something serious and almost sad is written on Matt’s face. “I haven’t had a real Christmas with someone since my dad died…”

Foggy’s frown deepens and then quickly morphs into a sad smile. “Yeah...well, you won’t have to spend any of your Christmases alone, anymore, huh? It’ll always be you and me, buddy. The best damn avocados this city’s ever seen, right?”

Matt lets out laugh, his eyes crinkling and a wide grin appearing on his face. He takes a sip of the steamy beverage, swallows, and says, “Yeah. Always.” 

Foggy leans a little closer to Matt. He thinks he’s going to kiss him. That he can’t stop himself, but he does stop himself. It’d be wrong. Matt can’t see the obvious signs that Foggy’s about to snog him. He wouldn’t have the chance to pull away or tell him that he could never love him. So Foggy doesn’t. Instead, he looks out the window at the flickering, shining lights of Hell’s Kitchen, but he thinks that Matt’s more beautiful. 

The coffee shop goes quiet as the song ends and Foggy is left with nothing but his thoughts and the soft, quiet breathing, the solid proof of Matt’s presence. 

Another song starts playing and Foggy vaguely recognizes the beginning. 

Matt grins and sets his cup down on the table next to the fireplace. He stands up and feels for Foggy’s hand, which is resting on the raised hearth. He takes Foggy’s hand in his own and gently tries to pull him up. Foggy, confused, sets his coffee down on the hearth and gets up. 

“C’mon! I love this song!” Matt extolls. 

Foggy smiles and nervously follows Matt to the center of the room. He’s not gonna argue; he’s been trying to get Matt to loosen up for ages now. 

Matt ruffles his dark hair, smirks, and bites his lip. The song plays on. 

_I don’t care if Monday’s blue. Tuesday’s grey and Wednesday, too._

Foggy watches as Matt sways his hips to the song. He can’t help but join in. Matt smoothly and slowly brings his hands down from the nape of his neck and to his collar bones, where his finger slowly sort off and his hands go back to his hair. When he feels the heat off Foggy’s body close to his, his hands go to the blond’s shoulders. Foggy puts his hands on Matt’s waist. 

_Thursday I don’t care about you. It’s Friday, I’m in love._

They move together to the beat of the song. Their drinks and coats lay, forgotten, on the hearth. 

_Monday you can fall apart. Tuesday, Wednesday break my heart. Thursday doesn’t even start. It’s Friday, I’m in love._

Foggy doesn’t look away from Matt’s face. He ignores the other few students spread throughout the coffee shop (probably cramming for finals). 

_Saturday, wait. And Sunday comes too late. But Friday, never hesitate._

Foggy slips Matt’s sunglasses off and gently trails his finger along his cheekbone. 

_I don’t care if Monday’s black. Tuesday, Wednesday, heart attack. Thursday, never looking back. It’s Friday, I’m in love._

Matt subconsciously moves closer to Foggy, soaking up his body heat and breathing in his familiar scent. Amber-sandalwood cologne and sweat and gardenia dryer sheets and dry shampoo. Normally, it’d be a lot for Matt. Almost overwhelming. So many scents, so much going on. But something about Foggy’s scent is calming. It’s familiar. It’s _safe._

_Monday you can hold you head. Tuesday, Wednesday, stay in bed. Or Thursday, watch the walls instead. It’s Friday, I’m in love. Saturday, wait. And Sunday always comes too late. But Friday, never hesitate._

Foggy looks away, just for a minute. He looks out the window at the dark sky and the city’s skyline. It’s started to snow. He looks at the clock on the mantle above the fireplace. 11:56 pm.

_Dressed up to the eyes. It’s a wonderful surprise. To see your shoes and your spirits rise._

He looks back at matt and thinks of how amazing it is that he’s even here right now. Matt Murdock, blinded in a horrible accident. Matt Murdock, the orphan whose father was murdered. Matt Murdock, the genius, blind kid who made it into Columbia University with dreams of becoming a lawyer. 

_Throwing out your frown. And just smiling at the sound. And as sleek as a shriek. Spinning round and round. Always take a big bite. It’s such a gorgeous sight. To see you eat in the middle of the night._

They’re so close now that their chests are touching. Foggy spins Matt and they both giggle. They’ve now attracted the attention of basically the entire coffee shop, but they all look too tired to really care. Foggy figures that if they’re studying at nearly midnight on Christmas Eve, they’re probably not totally conscious. 

_You can never get enough. Enough of this stuff. It’s Friday, I’m in love._

Matt, being blind, can’t dance to his full capacity, and steps of Foggy’s feet a couple times. Foggy ignores the soft “sorry”s and just continues dancing. He can’t really get himself to care. He’s dancing with Matthew Murdock in a coffee shop at 11:57 pm on Christmas Eve. At the moment, he doesn’t really care about anything but the man in front of him and the song blasting from the speakers. He wonders if this is what living is really supposed to be like. If this is what _love_ is supposed to be like. 

_I don’t care if Monday’s blue. Tuesday’s grey and Wednesday, too. Thursday, I don’t care about you. It’s Friday, I’m in love._

For the first time in a long time, Matt let’s go. He lets himself forget about all of it. Stick, his eyesight, his other senses, that little girl, his responsibility, _his father._ All he can focus on is Foggy Nelson. Foggy’s bright, blinding light that breaks through the thick darkness that is Matt Murdock. Foggy’s entire existence is a great contrasts to Matt’s life. He lets everything else fall away. What is this thumping in his heart? The flutter in his stomach? 

_Monday, you can fall apart._

Matt can feel Foggy cup his face in his hands. 

_Tuesday, Wednesday break my heart._

Their lips connect. Matt’s lips and soft and his mouth is warm and tastes like chocolate. 

_Thursday doesn’t even start._

Matt can hear the clock toll. It’s midnight. It’s Christmas. He’s been alone for so many Christmases. He’s kissing Foggy Nelson on Christmas in an on-campus coffee shop. He’s kissing Foggy Nelson on Christmas. He’s kissing Foggy Nelson. 

_It’s Friday, I’m in love._

Their lips part. Foggy’s breathing hard. Matt takes Foggy’s wrist and taps his finger in the blond’s watch. Their lips are almost touching still. He can feel Matt’s breath against his skin when he says, “it’s Friday.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo there wasn’t a Christmas on a Friday anytime in between 1998 and 2004, so I guess it takes place like 2004?? Idk when they were actually in college, but if this was 2004, they’d be like 34 now. Don’t ask about the timeline. Thanks for reading! Comments give me a will to live


End file.
